


A Wee Bit Irish

by bitboozy



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Requests, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitboozy/pseuds/bitboozy
Summary: Ellie tries to get Alec into the St. Patrick's Day spirit. Fortunately, she is very persuasive.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller, Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller
Comments: 20
Kudos: 132





	A Wee Bit Irish

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is just a little piece of fluff, written for @sabine_aubergine on Tumblr, who requested a St. Patrick's Day-themed fic.
> 
> By the way, I'm taking fic requests on Tumblr during self-isolation, so feel free to visit me there and make a request! @bitboozy

“You can’t be wearin’ that.”

Alec has barely lifted his head from where he’s hunched over at his desk, but it’s enough for him to tell his partner has gone absolutely potty. He keeps his eyebrow raised at her, waiting for her inevitable protest.

“It’s St. Paddy’s Day, you knob end!” She whines. 

And there it is. He half expects her to stomp her feet.

Ellie stands before him in lime green skinny jeans, an emerald green _KISS ME I’M IRISH_ t-shirt, and a forest green blazer. She has a headband on with a tiny leprechaun hat bouncing on a spring.

“’s not professional.” He shakes his head once last time, then looks back at his computer. “And you’re not Irish.”

She places her hands on her hips. “How do _you_ know what I am and what I’m not?”

His response is a barely audible grunt as he squints at the computer screen.

“Are you saying if I _were_ Irish, the outfit would be acceptable?”

He looks up. “So you admit you’re not Irish.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath then she purses her lips. “I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

She cocks her head to the side. “We’re all a _little_ bit Irish,” she says. “A _wee_ bit Irish, eh.”

“That isn’t a thing.”

As soon as he looks down again, he hears her shout, “Catch!” Then he glances up just in time for a chocolate gold coin to hit him square in the forehead.

“Oi, bloody hell!”

She simply shrugs. “Nicked it from Fred this morning.”

Alec picks the chocolate coin up off the floor and examines it. “Stealin’ candy from a baby now, are we.”

“Toddler. So it’s fine.” She starts digging through her bag, placing it on the arm of the couch. “Got you something else.”

“Ah, christ.” He leans back in his chair, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ellie pulls a large green t-shirt out of the bag and unfolds it, holding it up. It says _IF YOU KISS HER, I’LL KILL YOU._ His eyes widen.

“Go on, you’ll be thinking it,” she says mischievously. “When we go to the pub later.”

“Who says we’re goin’ to the pub later?” He’s frowning so hard she fears he may hurt himself.

She raises both eyebrows at him saucily. “You gonna let me go to the pub _alone_ in this shirt?”

He freezes a moment, then nods his head just past her. “Close the door.” She smiles, but does not move. “Close the door, Miller.”

With a grin, she shuts the door then stands in front of it. He finally gets up from behind his desk, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. His eyes flicker over her, up and down, eventually landing on her chest.

“Does look, um.” He clears his throat. “Nice on you. ‘s a good…fit.”

“Yeah?” She asks innocently, tugging at the the already tight shirt. “Think it’ll work down the pub?”

“Over my dead body,” he grumbles.

She leans forward innocently. “Sorry, what was that?” She takes off the blazer and lays it on the couch.

“ _Ellie_ ,” he groans.

She smirks. “Oh it’s Ellie now?”

He takes a step closer to her, eyes dark and boring into her.

“Got one more thing for you,” she announces, reaching for the collar of her shirt and pulling to the side. A bright green bra strap is revealed. “Would show you the full thing but my boss says that would be _unprofessional_.”

His groan is louder this time, then suddenly he reaches for her hips. She’s quick, hopping out of his grasp and a few feet away.

“Now, now, you can’t have it both ways, Detective Inspector.”

He deflates a _little_ , but not entirely. “Just one,” he attempts to negotiate.

Ellie folds her arms across her chest. “Just one _what_.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Just one you _know_ what.”

With her fingertip, she underlines the word _KISS_ on her shirt. “This?”

He takes another step toward her, encouraged, but she raises a hand to halt him.

“Only if you admit we’re all a wee bit Irish.”

His hands goes to his hips in defiance. “Can’t stand the bloody Irish.”

“Then I s’pose there’s no chance of you kissing one, is there?”

He drops his head, staring at the floor, carefully weighing his options. She’s smiling, but it disappears the second he looks up again.

“Fine. Bloody leprechaun thing on your head makes you look mad anyway,” Alec says, feeling proud of himself.

The glint in Ellie’s eyes simply becomes more mischievous. She takes two steps toward him, now tantalizingly close. His resolve weakens when he realizes he can make out her nipples underneath the shirt.

“Ah, shite,” he mutters under his breath.

“Say it,” she challenges him.

He can’t raise his eyes from her tits.

She tilts her head to the side and the little hat bounces. “Go on.”

He reaches out to touch her and she swiftly steps back _just_ enough. “Uh-uh.”

He sighs heavily and in the tiniest of voices, he admits, “We’re all a little bit Irish.”

“A _what_ bit Irish?”

A dramatic sigh follows. “A _wee bit_ Irish.”

She grins. “Ah, there it is.”

Filled to the brim with both relief and desire, he reaches out and traces the outline of her bra cup through the fabric of her shirt. She takes a final step closer and slinks her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts into his chest.

“You’re absolutely _maddenin’_ , woman.”

She scoffs. “ _I_ am?!”

He shakes his head, a smile creeping up on him. “Gonna listen to your shirt now.” He kisses her hard, pushing her back until she hits the edge of his desk, one warm hand sliding up underneath her shirt. Her fingers tangle in his hair and a soft moan escapes her throat.

When he finally pulls back just the slightest bit, pleased by the way her hands remain in his hair, he whispers, “You’re not goin’ to the pub tonight.”

Steadying her breathing, she looks at him askance. “Oh I’m not?”

He shakes his head. “You’ll be very busy.” A hand slides up her back, all the way up her spine.

She shivers ever so slightly. “With what, may I ask?”

He brushes his lips against hers. “’m gonna kiss the bloody Irish right out of ya.”

****


End file.
